


Chartreuse

by st_ivalice



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: X & Y | Pokemon X & Y Versions
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2018-10-15 01:56:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10548098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/st_ivalice/pseuds/st_ivalice
Summary: In the two years since Geosenge, life has beautifully flourished after it almost met its end. Between University, research at Sycamore Labs, helping Emma run a Detective agency, and maintaining her titles as Champion and Grand Duchess, Serena hardly has time for anything else, but when a simple case leaves more questions than answers, the careful balance she’s created threatens to fall apart as ancient secrets return.





	1. Chapter 1

“Serena, did you find it?”

Halfway in the closet, she pushed aside a couple of boxes and huffed, “It’s not a matter of _finding_ it, Mom.”

She had a system of organization, one that she’d had for years that kept everything worth keeping neat and orderly, but she didn’t think she had this much stuff accumulated in the last thee years. But, as she pushed aside a box of magazines that she’d been featured in and saw a whole row behind it of boxes filled with pamphlets, playbills, and other ephemera, she realized that these years have been so eventful, she could barely keep up with her cataloguing. She was looking for one of the earlier boxes from the first year.

Ah, there it was! Nestled in the second row of three other ones. If she pulled it out fast enough, it wouldn’t shift anything around it. Serena pulled the box, just as her mom came into the room and startled her.

“—I just want your dad to see it.”

She yelped as four boxes fell onto her. “Mom!”

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry,” her mom said, rushing to help her move the boxes. “It’s not a big deal.”

“ _Really_?” she said, standing in the midst of the chaos.

“Well,” her mom shrugged, stacking a couple boxes, “I mean it _is_ the Honor of Kalos. I just thought it was strange that your father still hasn’t seen it after all this time. You know how he feels about it.” She brought what she had to Serena’s desk and opened the first one to see if it was there.“Adventure Rules,” she said, reading the cover of a handmade book she found. “Pamphlets from Lumiose City; this is one of your first boxes. No medal, though,” she said, putting it aside.

“Should be in one of these boxes, then,” Serena said. There was stuff from Shalour, Cyllage City. She tried to separate the contents that had spilled out and return them to their places. She picked up a postcard from Cecil’s Cycles, remembering his generosity. As the ten thousand and _first_ customer, she was surprised he basically give her a bike for free. Must have been having a good day or something. Either way, his generosity paid off because after she became the Champion, the model she had became immensely popular. Every now and then he would contact her about a newer model but she was perfectly fine with the one she owned.

“Huh, this box is mostly empty,” her mom said.

Serena froze, quickly looking at the labels of the ones near her. “What box is that?”

“Geosenge.” Her mom considered it and closed the cover. “I’m sorry. I’ll leave this here.”

Sighing, she stood up. “No, it’s alright. I just—haven’t opened it since that day.” She tried to ignore her mother’s expression. “Thanks for putting everything in it though.”

She was grateful her mother had helped her sort through most of that ordeal, but there was _so much_ of it, still some things she hadn’t shared with anyone about that day and everything that came before it. She’d look through it eventually, just not now. She was only visiting Vaniville for a week, and she didn’t want to ruin her vacation, even if it was the last day.

“Of course. And honey, whenever you’re ready.”’

“Yeah,” she dismissed, eager to change the subject. 

“Everything alright in here?” Her dad poked his head in the room.

“Just the usual,” Serena smiled. And just like usual, his observant eyes took in everything at once, the pile of boxes, her mom fretting over something.

He frowned, stepping in. “You didn’t have to turn your room upside down.”

“Mom startled me.”

Her mother rolled her eyes. “If you’d just let us display it, we wouldn’t have to go through all this trouble. We’re just so proud of you.”

Her father smiled too. “Only fifteen people have been bestowed that award since it was first made three hundred years ago.”

Serena went to her desk drawer and opened it, remembering finally, that she had moved the medal there last month. “So ten other people besides me and my friends?” she said as she lifted a notebook and found it.

“ _You and your friends_ , are very worthy of it. Never undermine that.”

“I know, _papa_ ,” she said, presenting him the medal. “I’m just giving you a hard time.”

His expression briefly sobered as he examined it. After a moment he said, “Ever since I was a boy, I always imagined I’d be honored with this. Every Kalosian does.”

Her father always spoke of his childhood and time in Kalos, perhaps to pass along some of the culture to her. His joy at her interest was something that was special to them as father and daughter but it must have been another feeling altogether to finally move back to his homeland and have her make history. Two years ago when she had told him over a call, his shock and awe being the emotion she saw, but placing the medal in his hand was something completely different.

Her heart swelled as his mustache lifted and his smile appeared again. “But then my daughter, _elle est magnifique_!” He pulled her into a hug. “We both really are so very proud of you, Serena.”

“Thank- you, dad.”

He sniffed, wiping at the corner of his eye. “Right. Now then, I’m exercising my dad _and_ Pokemon Researcher powers and making the decision to hang this up downstairs.”

“ _Dad_ —“

“—Your mother didn’t want to display her racing trophies,” he countered.

“—And who _insisted_ all those years ago we hang up your father’s awards next to my racing trophies? _‘No matter how boring?’_ ” her mom chimed in.

Serena huffed. _Dr. Gabriel Fortier_ was using his Pokemon Researcher voice, and _Amazing Grac_ e was using her racing voice and she knew she was schooled _and_ beat. “Fine.”

Her parents shared a triumphant look at each other and she rolled her eyes. Truthfully, she was glad they had finally asked. Relieved. This was her first true award to add to the very large Fortier collection. Yes, her mother had placed her awards from school or participation awards for helping at races in the collection, but in her eyes, they never compared to her parent’s achievements. When she was younger it really upset her. Her father eventually took her on one of his research contracts and showed her his process for his work; how every little piece of data was important in some way, especially flowers. Weather, soil, Pokemon; the information they held was invaluable, but sometimes, you had to wait until they bloomed, like how newly mated Butterfree travelled hundreds of miles to get pollen from the Johto Golden Lily that blooms once every 5 years.

So she had waited and then they had moved to Kalos, to Vaniville, “ _a town whose flower is about to bloom_.” The irony was not lost on her.

“Also, on the topic of our magnificent daughter,” her dad said, waving a large brown envelope that had tucked under his arm, “This just came in.”

“Open it!” Serena held her breath. She’d already been sent the proofs, but to actually have it sent through the mail and delivered to her father, an actual subscriber and researcher, she was anxious for the verdict.

“ _Pokemon Researchers Monthly, Special Fall Issue_. New Theories from Professor Sycamore and Guest Researcher Kalos Champion Serena Fortier.” He grinned. “Mega Evolution and Divergence of Evolutionary Stone-Induced Forms.”

“Oh, that’s _two_ published Researchers in this family!” Her mom said.

“Soon to be three, honey,” her father pointed out. “You’ll be finishing your book soon, too.”

“Oh, it’s nothing like this. Just racing techniques, and boring ol’ me.”

Her father shook his head. “You’re too modest, _mon amor,”_ he said, taking a few steps to stand next to her and kissed her hair. “Even when I saw you in that race, all those years ago.”

Her mother smiled, her usually sharper expression softening. “My best race. I never raced better.”

“ _All_ your races are spectacular.” He took his wife’s hand and kissed the back of it. She giggled, making Serena wonder if that was how she had been when they first met. Or had her mother been straightforward and blunt? Probably both. Her parents laced their fingers together and smiled at each other, lost in their own world.

It amazed her always, how hectic and busy their lives had been between her mother’s races, her father’s research, and all of them being a close family at the same time. She admired the hard work her parents put into their relationship. Often, they were apart several weeks or months at a time, but somehow, their love was as deep and understanding as ever. It made her hopeful that she could find love like that, find a partner that could keep up with her busy schedule as Champion, Grand Duchess, and everything else in-between.

She didn’t think there was anyone else as busy as her besides Diantha, whose duties she had inherited and who somehow had replaced that with Film and Documentary directing. Shauna, was almost just as busy and had her plate full as Kalos Queen on top of helping out Tierno run a nightclub. How they did all that and balanced out their relationship was beyond her, but they’ve always had a rhythm that worked. The last person that came to mind was the Professor, and he was _a whole manner of business_ that could only come with constant research, analyzing data, publishing new work, appearing on several committees, preparing new trainers, raising newly hatched Pokemon, and finding the time to do anything else.

Serena smiled to herself. How did he manage to do everything and still appear so collected? Well, _most_ of the time. He hid his stress well before it became noticeable, and a few times, she’d helped with the load; offering to care for the Pokemon, or even surprising new trainers when selecting their partners. In turn, he also helped her when she was overlapping schedules; sometimes meeting with people if she was unable to, or having _their_ meetings at a cafe to ensure she has a bite to eat.

“We’ll be downstairs, honey.”

“Hrmm?” she asked absently, but they had already gone out the door.

She continued the thought of the Professor and his busy schedule, considering perhaps, that his lack of involvement with someone was a direct result of it. Then, again, she didn’t know too much about his personal life either, and if she thought on it more, she didn’t like the idea of him with someone else—not that she certainly had any say in the matter.

Serena returned back to cleaning up her boxes, pausing at a picture from two and a half years ago of them at the parade he organized for her and her friends. This had been her first foray in the spotlight unrelated to her mother's, and he stood next to her, proud mentor, his hand on her shoulder as they both smiled.

Since then, theirs was a relationship of nuances. First and foremost, he was attentive, to everything and everyone; empathetic to her emotions, her habits, her strengths and weaknesses. Most importantly, he treated her as an equal, not solely as a young trainer, nor as the Champion, but as a capable individual.

With all of that in mind, her relationship with him was also very complicated and she was _very_ careful with it. Over the course of three years, it evolved from mentor to colleague; a working relationship, friendly, built on mutual respect and hard work. They had an easy chemistry, but she admired his dedication, his humility, and assessment.

She took a closer look at the picture, at his even smile and how it complimented the fine features of his face. His bachelor status in the public eye was not one that escaped her, not when he stood so close she caught the scent of his cologne, or she watched the fine dexterity of his hands as he typed furiously away on notes or likewise, selected berries. Or, and she noticed this recently, when she was caught in the intensity of his gaze when she presented data to him. His attention was respectful, and he challenged her theories as much as he supported her research and data.

So, _yes_ , she was very careful about how she felt about him, especially since the public speculation of impropriety started as soon as she turned eighteen. They were tabloids, yes, but it infuriated her at first that the media would potentially damage the friendship and reputation they’d both built. It was then that she had to fully come to terms with him, that yes, she more or less had superficial feelings for him equivalent to a crush. But nearly two years had passed since then, and the months of working so closely with him had given her time to understand and accept that her appreciation and feelings for Professor Augustine Sycamore were _exactly_ what the press speculated, but even more than that, their friendship was one she valued immensely.

Serena put the photo in the box and closed it. She wondered if she would ever tell him how she truly felt. Perhaps he knew. It was not a difficult conclusion by any means. He was an intelligent man, but also very kind. Perhaps he wanted to spare her the disappointment. Either way, she was realistic, perhaps _too much_ so, her mother always said, but she knew better than to hold on to something that was unproductive, fanciful, even.

Even then, she wasn’t even sure she wanted a relationship now, difficult as it was finding someone who wasn’t attracted to her fame or position. There simply wasn’t any time in her schedule between her thesis, her responsibilities, helping Emma with the Bureau, and assisting the Lab with her research. Her last normalrelationship, if you could call it that, was two years ago with Calem, and that fell apart quickly for many reasons; they were young, she viewed him more as a friend, but mostly because he couldn’t handle her celebrity. Two weeks after that ended, she had a fling with a Unovan Gym Leader and icon—if you could even call it that. It was a weekend with Unova’s Elite female trainers at a private villa and Elesa had, well, _convinced_ her to take a break from the pressure of the public eye. She imagined the blowback if that had ever become known to the public. And after that she had been very careful about who she was connected with, who she allowed to become close to her, both public and private. They’d met a few times after that, just as fleeting and casual as the first time, but she last saw Elesa nearly a year ago, around the time she realized she had more substantial feelings for the Professor.

But that was enough of all _that_. She stacked the remaining boxes and lifted them to put them back in the closet. Everyone was always so interested in the Champion’s romantic interests, she had made it a point to walk out of interviews if the question came up, particularly any that insinuated the Professor.

She was ready for the difficult questions, the substantive ones; battle techniques, statistics, or even Geosenge sometimes. Serena glanced back at the box still on her desk. She would leave it there and go through it the next time she was back. Yes, that was her promise to herself.

Stretching, she stood up, looking around her room. She hadn’t spent much time here. Only a month after they moved to Vaniville, she’d become a trainer, and after she became Champion, this was a place she could escape. School and everything had brought her to find something in the City and she and Shauna split an apartment. This week was the first time in a year that she’d stayed longer than a couple nights.

Her father was back for a month, having just finished up his contract in Kanto, and she always made it a point to be back home when he was. The holiday was also a well earned reprieve between summer and fall semester. Of course, there was never a reprieve from being the Champion. If there was a league run, she’d respect the challenge—but there hasn’t been a promising attempt in a few weeks. She was hoping it would hold out. So far, so good.

She made one last sweep of the room. Odd how this was her last place of solace, the one place she returned to compose herself. It was the first place she established in Kalos, a place where she was just Serena. She had come here after Geosenge, after the parade to recollect herself. _Reorganize_ , as she was always prone to do. She stored parts of herself away, for safekeeping, for revisiting, for preservation. Perhaps one day this room will be a box itself, a mental retreat.

Her holocaster buzzed, a notification of an email. She checked the sender, in case of an emergency or pressing matter, but it was an update of the latest rank changes in the Battle Chateau over the course of the week. Serena sighed. Not any time _soon_ however.

 _Back to the grind again soon_ , she thought, heading out the door and down the stairs.

When she entered the living room, her parents were both reading the periodical, Fletchling flittering from one of their shoulders to another.

“Serena, this research is phenomenal,” her father said.

She couldn’t hide her grin. “Thank-you, Papa.”

“You were always good at determining patterns.”

“Well,” she said, taking a seat on the arm chair near him, “A famous Pokemon Researcher once told me to fill in the blanks and look at what was there and what wasn’t.”

He smiled, taking the compliment in stride, but insisted, “In a professional capacity this could be a game changer. Providing a basis that there is a sub-evolutionary form, or lateral line is significant, _remarkably so_.”

“It only took Mega Evolution to point it out, but I can’t take all the credit. There have been groups for years theorizing lateral evolution.”

“But now you’ve opened the door and provided a foundation. Theories are just theories until they are proven.”

“True,” she agreed but she still felt that this wasn’t completely her discovery.

They, or _she_ , had found the door by accident. While going over data with Sycamore last month, she noticed a connection between two Mega Evolutions; Glailee and Gardevoir. Beyond Mega Evolution, they shared no other traits among them, except that they had branched evolutionary lines that were based on gender. Through natural evolution, both male and female snorunt evolved into Glailee, which in turn was able to Mega evolve. When exposed to a dawn stone, female Snorunt evolved into Froslass which did not, to their knowledge Mega Evolve. The same was noted, albeit inversely, between the Ralts evolutionary line. Male and female Ralts naturally evolved into Gardevoir, which had a a mega form, while male Kirlia when exposed to the same stone evolved into Gallade, and did not have a mega form.

When they compared that data with all other known Mega forms, they concluded that the current data suggested that only pokemon that evolved through natural evolution, that is to say, without an aid such as an evolutionary stone, were capable of mega evolving. But of course, there were several issues that need to be addressed. Scizor and Steelix _did_ have mega forms but relied on a metal coat to reach their second stage. With that, the argument could be made that they could fall under the category of pokemon that evolved through trading—a unique group. There was also the theory that the unique qualities of a Dawn Stone were inhibiting Mega evolution. That aside, there are still mega evolutions that may emerge—a fact that was always at the forefront of their work.

She lingered on that last thought. She had acknowledged “their work.” As if she shared it with Sycamore.

Her father closed the magazine and took off his glasses. “Have the requests for studies come in? Grants? Proposals?”

“I’ve been in close contact with Professor Rowan and Elm, and Rowan’s already offered me the lead on a course of study.”

“More will follow. Good things, but I understand you have a lot on your plate in the next few months.”

Serena nodded. Between now and fall there were so many events, both large and small that demanded or called for her involvement. Next week she was assisting the Professor with the Pokemon Summer Camp as she had last year, and at the end of that week was another Geosenge Hearing with the Research and Reconstruction Committee. Her presence as Champion and survivor were vital to influencing the proceedings. She and Sycamore were also consulting with a colleague from the Alola region to help establish that region’s League. Then there was also the annual Kalos League Dinner that the Champion traditionally held and this was her first time hosting it, having become Champion a month after it her first year, and last year, co-hosting it with Diantha as a transitional nicety.

And through some stroke of luck, the cycling of annual events brought the Grand Festival and Pokemon World Tournament to Kalos. In lieu of the Lumiose Conference every two years, the Committee and Assembly decided to host the “Pokemon World Conference” that would also feature the Champions Tournament. And with the annual Fairy Fete in October, Kalos was ready for the challenge of hosting one national and _two_ international events, establishing this year as _Festival de la Beaute!_ The Festival of Beauty.

Between now and then, she was sitting in on numerous meetings, preparing several speeches, doing promotional tourism spots, organizing challenges and overseeing menus and seating arrangements and all that entailed.

She smiled, perhaps to reassure herself more than her parents. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

Her father stood up and moved toward her, his arms open. She hugged him again.

“I’m so proud of you, Serena. With everything. _We’re_ proud of you.”

Her mother joined in and Serena soaked in the moment. There were few times they were all together like this, but no matter where they drew strength from each other, whether it be on the race track, out in the field, or here, in front of their personal achievements, they knew the source.

“Well,” her father said after a moment, “We were in the middle of preparing lunch weren’t we? We should finish that before you have to head out, no?’

They laughed, because her mother had been the one to insist, while cutting up charti berries, that her father, see her medal. He was in the midst of preparing baked red-stripe basculin.

He planted a kiss on both their heads. “This is my favorite reason for being home.”

“Family,” her mother agreed.

“ _Food_ ,” he teased.

“ _Fletch!_ ” Fletching chirped, and they all broke into laughter again. As they headed toward the kitchen, she cast a glance at the shelf the medalsat on and the published journal on the table and smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

Augustine turned on to La Carre Street, keeping an eye on the darkening sky. He was pressing his luck, pushing it to its limit as the first scattered drops of rain chilled his skin. This storm they predicted rolling in from the coast was sure to be a big one, dangerous even, but storm or no, he braved the cold drafts that heralded it because he had to focus. So he kept to his usual route and skipped Northern Boulevard all together to beat the storm. _Usual_ meant slipping through alleyways until the modern buildings of Northern and Southern Boulevards changed to the historic outer circle where tourists and socialites avoided.

No one bothered him in the outer circle.

His runs started years ago as a means to balance the hours he spent sitting at desks, hunched over computers. These days, they were meant to hone his focus, rework his mind if research and inspiration were at a standstill. Often he ran at night, when there was less distraction, but when it got bad, _really_ bad, he had to run in the middle of the day.

He’d worked it out that by the time he reached Vernal Avenue, his mind began to reorganize as his body adjusted to the increase in blood flow and endorphins. Today, however, he passed his marker two blocks ago and his thoughts were still cluttered, still as hazy as they were on Monday, and he didn’t even notice he took the wrong street. He was trying to shake this block that hung over him for a week. He couldn’t concentrate. Last night he couldn’t sleep even after he went for a midnight jog. He avoided the issue all week, but now, in the cold, harsh air, he finally admitted that it coincided with an _absence._

Serena was gone; vacation in Vaniville with her parents for a week, and even though her drop-ins or research presentations were limited to once or twice a week most times, it was a very reliable and appreciated presence of the lab’s routine. Of _his_ routine. He looked forward to her visits, unaware that he had become reliant on them, until the other day when Sophie wondered why he was in the lobby with his coffee and it dawned on him that on Wednesdays, Serena usually stopped by at 8:30.

The realization only made this rut worse. Now he knew _why_ he was stagnant, and the thought of her had remained on his mind since then. If he was honest with himself, and he was becoming _very honest_ recently, she was always on his mind.

Augustine stopped in the middle of an alley, breathing heavily. “She is,” he said aloud. He thought of her opinions, her smile, the intensity of her eyes when she found something interesting—

Before he considered that the tremor in his hands was not from the cold, he continued his pace.

This was dangerous; to his career, to hers. She was young, almost _too_ young, and he had been her mentor. In some ways, he still was, if he squinted hard enough.

Early on he vowed to never become involved with anyone in his lab, not just to keep things professional, but as the leading Professor of Kalos, he knew he exerted heavy influence. It wasn’t right to do so. But there had never been anything improper in their relationship. They had been mentor and pupil, and then she became Champion and she was working _with_ him, not for him, as the nature of their positions required. Often enough, she consulted him on many things; statistics, behavior, strategy. The list went on. Yes, he could nitpick, insist that she was contracted independently with the Lab, but even if they drew lines, clarified the nature of things between, there were so many other ways they were entangled.

Augustine thought harder on it though. To Kalos, she was a powerhouse that had bloomed overnight, defeated a terrorist organization, dominated battle and fashion alike, and now she was proving her prowess in academia. There was hardly a person who _wasn’_ t amazed at her talents. He considered himself fortunate to have had the opportunity of seeing her journey at every step, see her transform into the dedicated, focused, determined woman she was today. He did not deny that he was admirable of her, proud as any mentor would be, but he was also careful to keep his appreciation reigned in. 

He gritted his teeth against the cold and his thoughts. Apparently he hadn’t been careful _enough_. Somehow, in the past year, he had allowed himself to let his guard down. The strain of late hours and filtering through data had become easier to bear with her working hand in hand with him, challenging, pushing his limits. He was learning from her as much as she did from him.

Augustine ran harder. He felt he was on the cusp of something extraordinary. He valued this friendship with her, this working relationship tremendously. In a professional setting they had raised bars, changed viewpoints, contributed to the world incredible information. Together, they were an excellent team, and there was more they had yet to accomplish. He would not trade anything for it. Except—

He shut his eyes, withdrawing into himself for a moment; the blood rushing through his ears, his breath releasing in sharp pants. He would give it all up if it meant he could experience something _more_ with her.

Slowing down, he jogged a couple blocks, not letting himself think further on it. On the possibility of _more_. Late nights discussing theories and mechanics, early mornings sharing breakthroughs and company. Or later evenings and even later mornings as they shared intimacies—

He shook his head. No. He wasn’t going to actively think of her, think of _them_ in that context. She deserved that decency and respect from him.

But even still, he was grappling with his own awareness that he hadn’t fully considered how she might feel about him. In _any_ capacity.

Serena was many things; reserved, analytical, guarded. Publicly, the persona she presented was strategic. Equal parts generous, pragmatic, and friendly.

Out of necessity, they were required to maintain a professional relationship, but it never felt forced, except when tabloids had demanded them to shape a safe narrative that was appropriate for both of them. Early on, he knew that the insinuations had affected her and he made an effort to reassure her that they were just that; _tabloids_. But now, over three years later, she had near complete control over her public image. She made it a point to be seen with him in various settings, joking even, about what the press might say.

And yet—

Augustine stopped again once he reached the end of the street, the rain beginning to fall at a light but steady rhythm.

She still remained in close contact with him by choice, pursued a course of interest that brought them into a more casual and private relationship, and she had shown him other sides of herself; her humor, her dedication, even her stubbornness.

Between those boundaries of professionalism and friendship, he thought more on those late nights crunching data with her, and discussing schedules and colleagues over lunch meetings, and the days she would stop by the lab for no real reason other than to check up on the pokemon. All their unguarded smiles and lingering glances. They were far and few between, but sometimes he might get caught up in their work and call her _marvelous_ or compliment her dedication and she would look at him differentlywhen she smiled, an expression that would give him pause as a warm feeling swelled in his chest. Or, there were times when he was at a stand still, anguishing over work, and she was there, reminding him to take a break, or offering to act as a sounding board over lunch, or even suggesting a friendly battle.

He smiled. He always lost, but it never felt disappointing, not with her.

A gust of wind swept through the alley, reminding him of the impending weather and the distance he was from home. There was a crack of thunder and he glanced around to get his bearings. In the outer circle, streets weren’t labeled as diligently and he had to remember landmarks. Further down the street was a cafe closing up and he jogged to it. _Cafe du Florges_. He didn’t recognize it, and he waved to the busser and waitress clearing tables and bringing them in.

“Bonjour!” he greeted.

“We’re closing, monseiur,” the waitress said. “The storm.”

“I know. What street is this?”

“Toro.”

“Merci.”

Toro street was west of Vernal so that meant he was facing east. Or was it west? The buildings here blocked the view of the Prism Tower and well, sometimes several streets in the Outer Circle shared the same name.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “What’s the quickest way to get back to the Inner Circle?”

The same waitress put her stack of chairs down and pouted. “Head back that way,” she pointed, “And then take a right, a left, and a right—”

“—No, Marie, they closed down Rue la Roux last week, he needs to cut across Rue Serret then up D’arcy,” the busser interjected.

There was another crack of thunder and the rain fell a bit harder. His body was beginning to cool down and he shivered. “Are you sure?”

“Oui, monsieur,” they both answered.

He nodded this thanks and meant to turn but he spotted a magazine underneath a pile of dishes on a table and he recognized his face along with Serena’s. It was a tabloid.

Against his better judgement, he asked, “Can I take this?”

The busser waved nonchalantly.

He took the tabloid, folded it under his arm, and set off in the direction they pointed him.

By the time he made it to the lab, the rain was coming down hard and the wind had picked up. His shoes squeaked on tile and he took the stairs up to his loft, grateful to be in the warmth. Before they left earlier, Sina and Dexio had returned most of the pokemon back to their pokeballs in anticipation of the storm but he’ll do another walkthrough and make sure everything was secure after he took a shower.

He stepped through the doorway of the loft, turning on the lights and kicking off his soaked running shoes. Surprisingly, the magazine hadn’t gotten too wet, and he laid it out on the counter while he started a kettle of water going for some tea. Diantha’s advice from years ago came back to him. _There’s always a bit of truth in tabloids._ Maybe that’s what made him grab the magazine. In truth, he hadn’t looked at a tabloid in several years, the last one being the first to insinuate a relationship between Serena and him, and that was out of anger and necessity. He’d used his connections to get most of the larger companies to back off but now that Serena was older they had returned in full force.

What had compelled him to grab this one? Because he was starving for anything pertaining to her? To hints of _them_? He frowned, peeling off his shirt, heavy and soaked from the rain, and studied the magazine. The main focus of the cover was dedicated to some alleged previous affair Pierre had with Wallace Stone, but the column next to it was about them.

 _‘Relationship under wraps?’_ it insinuated, complete with a cropped picture of both of them at lunch last week and more photos on pages twelve and thirteen. They had been discussing the effects of their recently published article as well as the finer details of the summer camp next week. A great conversation, though he enjoyed every discussion he had with her. She was intelligent, witty, decisive. Behind her vibrant eyes, he could always see her assessing, strategizing, discerning. Even that came through in the photos.

Next to her, he looked spellbound, and he was. He remembered how her lips took on the color of the wine they were drinking, how she expertly conveyed her plans for improving the children’s battling statistics during the camp, how she shared freely her thoughts and theories on mega evolution with him, no matter how far-fetched.

The photographer, as rude as he had been that day interrupting their meal, had selected excellent pictures of her, but Augustine couldn’t see how these pictures conveyed how she might feel about him, and maybe that was the truth about this tabloid. _He_ was the one who was starry-eyed, out of line.

He felt tired suddenly, his lack of sleep catching up to him, his body protesting from his run. Closing the magazine, he removed it from the counter and tossed it onto the coffee table on his way to a long warm shower.                                                                                                    

* * *

Augustine sniffed disinterestedly at his cup of pecha tea; his second. Somehow, the habitual routine of making tea was the one habit he could rely on. Running had certainly proven unproductive, detrimental, even, in that he could not shake his inability to focus on anything else. As a scientist with new data, he was compelled to prove his theory correct, that being near her would allow him to focus again, but that was not entirely unbiased, nor was it fair to thrust that upon her consciously or not. He was responsible for his emotions.

The rain wasn’t helping. Banging against the lab windows, it sounded like a horde of Graveler rolling down the mountainside in the distance.

He walked to the large window and stared into the weather, barely making out the Prism Tower. The streets were empty, every light in every window on in the afternoon. Lightning struck the tower in the distance and the immediate thunder made him grateful he had made it home in time. Through the glass he could feel the chill. A Lugia must have flapped its wings for the weather to be so terrible. Wasn’t that how the saying went? 40 days? He clearly hadn’t spent enough time in Johto to understand it.

On the street below he saw a figure dart desperately for cover. Rain-beaten, wind-bitten, they were drenched to the bone, no doubt. After a few seconds of running between awnings, the person finally huddled in one spot.He couldn’t make which way they were heading, perhaps the Pokemon Center, but that was half a block away, and he could just as well invite them into the lab. No one should be outside in this.

Augustine looked closer, breath condensing on the glass. The person lingered under the awning and he prepared himself to go out in the cold rain again. He put on his wet running shoes again, grabbed an umbrella and headed out, grateful he didn’t slip down the slick steps once he was outside.

Visibility was pretty low, but he was certain the person was still there. His shoes were instantly soaked again when he stepped in a puddle. As he crossed the flooded street, he thought he recognized the hat the person was wearing and his gut twisted.

The Champion of the Elite Four, Grand Duchess of the Battle Chateau, Heroine of Kalos, was shivering under the awning of a closed shop. She looked miserable, glancing at the buildings for a bearing on her location.

"Serena!"

She looked at him curiously, trying to identify him.

Her face lit up. "Professor?”

"C'mon. Let's get you inside, _cheri_."

She said nothing else, but the grateful smile on her face as she moved under his umbrella, was enough to show her appreciation. When she lined up beside him, he was caught off guard by her smaller frame pressing against him for warmth. The simple movement of preservation, their flanks brushing, hips alongside each other, was as natural a feeling as it was for him to place his arm across her shoulders to shield her. She shivered from the cold, and he urged them both back into the building.

Back in the lobby, Serena shuddered at the sudden temperature change, as did he. "Thanks," she said, teeth chattering. Rubbing her arms she pulled away from him. “I was trying to make it to the Pokemon Center. I didn’t even know I was so close to here.”

He frowned. “Were you out there long?”

“Yeah, I got caught coming in from Vaniville.” She set her duffle bag down and considered the leather chairs, fully expecting to wait out the storm in the lobby.

"This storm's going to last a while. I've got some hot tea on kettle," he offered.

Surprised, she considered it a second, but declined. “That’s very kind of you, but I should be fine,” she said despite her teeth beginning to chatter again.

She was being modest, and he suspected she wasn’t aware of the severity of the storm.

“Serena, please. This storm will probably last into the morning at best. There are warm towels and tea upstairs, a shower too, if you’d like. You're not interrupting me from anything," he clarified. Perhaps she was apprehensive about disrupting his work, which was _ironic_ , but he wasn’t going to let her sit in cold wet clothes for the whole night.

She contemplated it a moment longer and nodded. “Thank-you. I really appreciate it.”

“Of course. It’s no problem, really.”

He helped her with her bag and only the sound of the rain and their shoes squeaking on the tile filled the silence between them. In the elevator, he hit the button for the third floor. She had never been up here to his knowledge. Like the other floors that structurally split into quadrants, the third floor was split into a room that housed their digital servers, another for physical archives, and the last two quadrants were renovated as a loft. It was a lot of space for just him, but it provided an area different than the lab or his office to retreat too. It was also prime real estate in the city and the Assembly Minister had headed the renovations before they set up the lab, perhaps as a precaution, perhaps to impress him.

But it was not his intent to impress Serena, only offer what hospitality he could. The elevator opened to the third floor and she studied the door to his loft with an unreadable expression. It made him acutely aware of every step, every action he was doing.

“Is it just you in the lab?”

“Uh, yes. I sent everyone else home. Good thing, too,” he added, immediately regretting how that sounded.

“Yeah,” she said quietly, glancing at him sidelong.

He cleared his throat and opened the door. “Well,” he said.

She raised her eyebrows at the interior, no doubt recognizing its value. “Wow. Is this what being the leading Pokemon Researcher gets you?”

He smiled modestly, “Uh, this is what they bribe you with, knowing full well that you spend most of your time downstairs. Increases the value of the building.”

She laughed lightly and it eased some of his tension.

“So,” he continued, “The bathroom is there,” he pointed out. “Unfortunately there's just the one in the room, but ignore the clutter."

She made to step toward it before considering her soaked and muddy shoes on the hardwood floor and removed them. He lead her to the restroom. “Towels are under the sink.”

She nodded silently, arms folded across her chest. Her shivering had returned. "Thanks, Professor.”

Augustine smiled and handed her her bag. “You are most certainly welcome to use the shower to clean up."

"Thank you, I think I might,“ she admitted and closed the door.

He heard her rustling around for a moment until he realized that constituted as eavesdropping, and he went to gather a pair of dry clothes for himself. Running a hand through his wet hair, he went to his closet. This was certainly an interesting turn of events, one he wasn’t sure he was prepared for.

The bathroom door opened slightly. “My spare clothes are soaked; my whole bag, actually. Do you have a dryer I could use?"

"Yeah, a washing machine too,” he said. “Um, I might have something for you to wear in the mean time as well.” He scrounged through his drawer, pulling out a shirt from the 5k a few months ago and some running shorts that might be small enough for her to wear. "Here. It's not much, but it's dry, and there should be a laundry basket next to the towels for your wet clothes.”

Serena grimaced. "Thanks. _Again._ "

“Don’t worry about it _,_ ” he reassured. “Happens to the best of us. If you need anything else, just ask.”

When she smiled, it was finally the one she usually gave him; a slow tug at the corner of her lips that spread across her face. “Alright.”

The door closed and his smile grew. She didn’t like to impose—a Hoenn mannerism—but she was also pragmatic, one of the many things he respected about her. Certainly, today had been a self-evaluation of just exactly what things those were.

Augustine sighed and pulled his damp shirt off his shoulders for the second time that afternoon, wondering if his evening had taken a turn for the better or the worst.


	3. Chapter 3

Getting wet again was the last thing she wanted to do, but she was grateful, if a bit selfish with the steaming water. She let the hot water run over her shoulders. She hadn’t realized how tense she was; the strong winds had forced her to grip Charizard tighter than she usually did flying on him. The warmth was reassuring that she had been spared battling the storm to reach home. She turned and adjusted the temperature slightly, unfamiliar with the controls, a clear reminder of her location. 

It was a very kind and personal gesture, but one that she mulled over. She wasn’t doing herself any favors seeing more of his personal life, but at the same time, he was allowing her in. Still, she _definitely_ wasn’t doing herself any favors by _deliberately choosing_ to spend her professional and personal time with him either. Or standing in his shower. 

Curiously, she picked up one of his shampoo bottles.  _Sitrus berry Splash._ Serena grinned. It was the same brand she used, only fruitier. She’d had to switch because it attracted wild Pokemon when she was travelling. Maybe he used it for the effect? He was eccentric like that, and always conscientious of what might make someone or even Pokemon more comfortable.

Placing the bottle back down, she picked up her own she took with her in her bag. Her grin grew wider; she was in his  _shower_. She was sure she would never hear the end of it from Shauna. Shauna didn't care for things like the effect of X attack on Lucario over Scyther, but she took careful note of her around Sycamore; the change in her smile, her mood, her schedule.

As she lathered shampoo into her hair, her grin faded. Yes, she wanted to spend time with her father, but the stay in Vaniville was also a self-imposed distance from Sycamore. From _Augustine_. They spent the last month in heavy contact finishing up the research for the Pokemon Researcher’s article. Like always, she enjoyed working with him; like always, they found themselves wrapped up in research and deadlines. It was in those late nights and email exchanges, lunch breaks and editing sessions, that she pretended she had him to herself. Because she did; his attention, his companionship, his challenges. Then the gears in her mind changed somewhere at the half way point of the project. He was _Professor_ out loud, and in her thoughts, _Augustine_ , and maybe she leaned a little closer, or their knees brushed, or she shared a joke with him she didn’t have to, and he would turn his face towards her, unfazed by her proximity, or keep his knee against hers, or laugh at her humor.

And then their project was over, on to the next, and she had to share him with Kalos again. She wondered how long she could keep it up. The mentality of living in the moment, this Kalosian culture of passion and spontaneity, was the hardest for her to adopt. She couldn’t allow herself to fall into that comfortable complacency for too long, or even bounce back from it so easily as most Kalosians could.

Sighing, she dipped her head under the water. Was she deluding herself? How many assistants must “fall in love” with him? How many people, strangers, approached her asking for insight on gaining his favor? The truth was she had no clue. He wore his heart on his sleeve the way every Kalosian did; romantic, idealistic, passionate.

Augustine Sycamore had many passions; Pokemon, running, _potential_. He had an ability to spot it, coax, nourish it no matter how great or obscure. It was what made him a great professor preparing new trainers and the forefront pioneer in Mega Evolution— the innate _potential_ of pokemon. And, it was one of the first things he noticed about her.

_Well now, you do have a certain je ne sais quoi! I have a good feeling about you!_

There were her parents, always pushing her as parents always did, and then there was him, encouraging, challenging, praising, calling her _marvelous_. It brought a warm feeling to her chest.

Half of her thrived on that. She was taught to trust her instincts; her mother instilled that a race was all trust and impulse, her father, that hypotheses were built off hunches and intuition. The other half was steadfast in formulating data; analyzing racing statistics, supporting hypotheses with results before drawing conclusions.

It’s what made her tuck away thoughts and moments deep within her for reflection and possible affirmation. Moments like spending all evening at last year’s Fairy Fete chatting with her, or when she stopped by the lab for business and he asked how her day was, all the boring details, or _inviting her to his loft for a shower_ _and wearing his clothes._ The friendly gesture was there, warm shelter from a very bad storm, but wearing his clothes was very open to interpretation.

She turned off the water, squeezing out all of it from her hair. As nice as it was to think he was interested in her, she knew he had much better prospects; _any_ prospect really. He could pick and choose whomever he wanted to be with. Would he cross the line with a former pupil? A protege even? No matter what title she held, Champion, Grand Duchess, she was always his pupil first.

She frowned, drying herself with a clean towel. She patted her face dry and that feeling in her chest swelled again at the familiar scent. It smelled like him, like his clothes. As she put on her underwear, she was glad she had put them in a plastic bag that had kept them dry. She would be doing that with  _all_  her clothes from now on. 

Serena examined the clothes he selected for her, slipping on his running shorts. They fit—just barely. He had some narrow hips. Probably all his running. He didn't look it, but he had excellent endurance and she was impressed to learn that at the 5k last year. Her time was good, between all the skating and cycling she did, but his was faster. He had winked, sweaty as he cooled down from the run, an easy going grin on his face. It was  _because_  he couldn't skate, he told her. Cycling and running pushed his mind as much as his body.

She smirked at herself in the mirror. Maybe she would relish that he wore these clothes often. She pulled on the shirt and some dry knee socks, dumping everything else into the laundry basket. 

Serena found him in the kitchen making more tea, changed out of his wet clothes and into a faded Sinnoh University hoody and some lounge pants.

"Good! Your timing is impeccable as always. Tea's done." He grinned. "You like Sitrus right? There's some lansat tea I made earlier if you don't."

She matched his grin. He remembered. "Yeah."

“This’ll help warm you up.” Augustine handed her a cup and took the laundry basket so she could drink her tea. "I'll show you how to use the washing machine. It’s actually right here.”

Sliding a panel away, it revealed a washer and dryer set in the corner. The placement of laundry machines in the kitchen in Kalos was still odd to her, but she saw the convenience. After the run down, he stepped away to leave her to the privacy of her wet clothes, and she put them through a cycle. She thought against putting her bag in with her clothes so she opened it up to dry on top of the machine.

He was finishing the last of his tea at the kitchen counter, staring thoughtfully at the rain. She observed him, from his casual lean to his attire. He was always impeccable, even at the end of the day— shirt tucked-in, buttoned, hair-styled, but this was the first she’d seen him in a relaxed setting. Unstyled, his hair retained most of its curls and stubble was beginning to show on his face.

"Now we play the waiting game," he said of the laundry. “Shouldn’t take too long, but I don't know about that rain. Hasn't been a storm like this for some time."

She took a seat on the bar stool opposite him, taking a very appreciated sip of tea. It was so nice to be indoors after getting soaked and windbeaten. “I didn't even hear about it over the weekend." She felt dumb now, saying it out loud. She should have checked the weather coming in.

He focused on her, smiling a bit, perhaps sensing her self-deprecation. “Don’t feel too bad. Vaniville’s the other direction. Besides, I don’t think they predicted it would be this bad until early this morning. Anyway,” he said, transitioning smoothly between pouring more tea and making her feel better, “Did you have a good holiday? How are your parents doing?”

“Uh, I did, actually,” she admitted. “It was a nice change of pace.”

“I bet.”

“They’re doing great. Oh, my dad got our article today, too.”

“Oh, did he? What’d he have to say about it? How’s he doing by the way?”

Serena couldn’t stop herself from laughing at his eagerness. He was like a little boy, precocious about everything. She wondered how his mother must have dealt with him as a child.

He grinned sheepishly, “Don’t mean to bombard you with questions." 

“No, you’re fine, believe me. It’s nice to have a different conversation other than filling in my parents on every detail of my life.” She took another sip, licking her lips, before continuing, “I’m just glad they respect my personal life and don’t ask any relationship questions.” As she spoke she caught that he had glanced at her lips and his eyes flicked back up to hers. She felt her face warm up and she broke eye contact by taking another drink.

She placed her cup down on the granite counter, focusing on it so she didn’t have to look at him. “But yeah, he’s good. He’s mostly been in Fuchsia City, monitoring the Tauros and Kangeskhan herds.”

“Amazing,” he said. “I’m still so impressed at his conservation efforts. Lapras pods have increased _six hundred percent_ in the last five years because of protective regulations he wrote. We should all be so lucky. Ah,” he said, catching her eye, “but I don’t need to ramble about his achievements. I’m sure you’ve heard all about them." 

“Not nearly enough!” she exclaimed. “He’s always downplaying his achievements and I always want to hear about it. But he’s so passionate about pokemon. He won’t rest until every single species is protected. It’s always great to see that other people appreciate what he’s doing.” She smiled softly. “It’s…important to me that people see how hard he works.”

He nodded. “And certainly, you and your mother know best how much he does.”

Her smile grew. “Thanks,” she said, and this time he found sudden interest in his tea. For a moment, the silence was filled with the sound of his thumb running along the ceramic. “He was very impressed with our work,” Serena added.

He looked up. “Yeah?”

“Unofficially, he said it has the potential to be groundbreaking. At the very least, it’s opened the door to many avenues of thought.”

“That’s very great to hear!”

She took a breath and held it for a moment. “It’s a start,” she sighed, thinking already of the tremendous work that came with new research.

“Interesting, no, that we’ve just finished but there’s still more work to be done.”

“ _Good_ work.”

He hummed his agreement over the rim of his cup and sniffed, asking, “Have you considered Rowan’s proposal?” 

She considered how he snuck the question in before sipping from his tea and how, despite his casual presentation of the question, that this was the third time he’d brought it up. 

Standing in his kitchen, wearing his clothes, she was feeling bold. “Worried your old professor will steal me away?”

He choked, perhaps surprised at her flirting, and he had to wipe tea from the corners of his mouth.

“I’ve considered it, definitely,” she answered, pleased with his reaction, and dared to be bolder. “But I do like working with you.” 

“Me too,” Augustine said, and the lazy, casual smile about his lips bolted her to her chair.

A thunderclap broke the growing silence, startling them both, and she peered into her teacup as if it were still full. "So what have you been working on while I’ve been away?”

He pursed his lips, his expression briefly serious before admitting, “Not much. Brainstorming and theories. Interested?”

"Always."  She enjoyed his raw notes and that he shared them with her. She could follow his thought process most of the time.

"Ok," he said cheerily and motioned to the living room. His laptop was on the coffee table and they both sat down on the couch to look through it.

"You know how we mentioned the idea of Xerneas' energy permeation?” he said as he pulled up information. “The recent data from the Geosenge rubble that was excavated had me wondering about amplification for actual detection." He positioned the laptop towards her. “You can glaze over the math,” he waved dismissively.

She did, for the most part. She'd  _heard_ , from Dexio, that math was not the Professor’s strength. Still, it was not too complex that she abandoned the calculation all together. Locating the exact strength of energy could increase the number of Pokemon species that were capable of mega evolution. The theory was great. Solid and useful, but it could still pan out. She told him as such.

He agreed. “It still needs development. I need to consider the research Professor Juniper and her father have recently published." 

“Mhmm. And the possibility of more data being released after the Committee hearing next week.” She understood why data seemed to become available around the time a hearing was scheduled but it didn’t make her comfortable about transparency of how it’s being handled. Both of them were involved as much as they could, both incidently and professionally, but the Committee dragged its feet. 

Leaning back, he crossed his arms. “I’m not too thrilled about the next hearing either.”

Serena glanced at him sidelong. He was usually cautiously optimistic, but yes, the Geosenge Committee was dragging its feet on many things; politics, regulations, recovery. 

“Geosenge is Kalos’ deep dark secret, and it knows it,” he said. “And shame and pride are in equal parts.”

She thinned her lips. Geosenge was a wound that wouldn’t heal until Kalos confronted what Geosenge fully meant, recognized the Ultimate Weapon was a terrible tool that should never be used, reconstructed or preserved, and that Kalos must safeguard the knowledge that came with it.

For her, that recovery also included sifting through her experience, what Lysandre offered, what Xerneas allowed her to see, and the box that remained unopened on her desk back in Vaniville.

Glancing at him again, she considered his pursed lips and dour expression. Perhaps there was no one else who cared more about what really happened three years ago, three _thousand_ years ago. No one else who carried emotional baggage. Lysandre had been his friend, perhaps more, and he felt he held some responsibility for not recognizing Lysandre’s true ambition and encouraging his passion. He had apologized to her, _just_ her, and shared personal insight.

She knew it had affected him greatly, and even now, she still wondered what compelled him to do so. Was he so concerned with what she thought of him now? If she thought he was just as guilty as Lysandre was? She sensed there was something there, a discussion, a confluence, a catharsis to be had between them, but she had never had the strength to do so. It was too personal, from both ends, and she would have to reveal Lysandre’s last words, last actions.

 There was a rumbling noise he thought was distant thunder, but she clutched her stomach and grinned sheepishly. 

Augustine sat up. "Where are my manners! You've not eaten."

“It's fine."

He shot her a look that it was not and got up to go back to the kitchen. He shuffled through his fridge. “I’m afraid I don’t have much in the way of a full meal, but, ah—“ He picked up a handbill. “How do you feel about pizza?”

“Are there places still open?”

“Pepper and Pikachu’s. Rain or shine,” he shrugged. “But even this may be a bit extreme.”

She shrugged too. “Having a Dragonite does help.” Their convenience and prompt delivery was a reason for their popularity, but she liked the family that ran it. Penelope was a former Dragon trainer, made a pretty good League Run back in the day, she’d heard. Opened up a Pizzeria with her wife and their children, Pierre and Patrice. Often enough, pizza was the food of choice at the lab when they were stuck there, whether it was Sophie, Sina, or herself.

“I’ll call and ask.” He leaned on the counter as he scrolled through his contacts. "Toppings?" 

"Uh, mushroom, pepperoni? I don't mind." 

He opened the call, waiting for the connection.

While she waited, she entertained herself with the magazines on the coffee table. Most were scientific journals; _National Pokegraphic,_ _Pokemon Researchers Monthly,_ an old issue. She knew the recent one with their work was downstairs in the lab’s conference room. 

She moved the copy to get the magazine that was under it and raised her eyebrows. _Le Cercle?_ He was always verbally dismissive of it and any other like it. Reaching for the tabloid, she recognized this rather _recent_ issue. On the cover, there was a cropped image of them at a cafe with the caption **Lunch Date? Relationship under wraps?**

The Holo call connected and a teenaged boy answered the call, looking weary, but still attempting to sound courteous. "Pepper and Pikachu's Pizzeria. Rain or Shine. Due to the extreme weather, our deliveries will take about an hour, is that alright?"

Augustine glanced at Serena. She shrugged and nodded.

"Yes, that's fine, Pierre,” he agreed. 

"What would you like tonight, Professor?” Pierre asked, a bit more cheery as he recognized him. “Shall I pull up the order I have on file?"

Curiously, she opened up to the pages in question that had pictures of them at lunch at Cafe la Rue two weeks ago. That day they were discussing the details of the summer camp and recent data released from Devon Co. about their energy plan. When a reporter had taken a table close to them and wasn’t that discreet in his violation of their privacy, Augustine had smiled at him, called him to their table and intentionally bored him with data. She smirked, remembering. He was cheeky when he wanted to be. She had played along, annoyed with the pictures as well.

But it seemed the photographer got what he needed, despite it. Serena was glad at least, that they were flattering pictures and none with food in her mouth. She was well-dressed, deep in conversation with the Professor, looking as an equal colleague. Across the table, he was just as immersed in conversation with her. Most of the other pictures were much of the same thing except the last one. She was looking at the street, perhaps thinking, but he was observing her across the table, a very pensive look on his face.

Serena looked closer at the image, a feeling like butterfrees in her stomach. He had never looked at her this way. She glanced up to look at him and see his face now, only to find him looking at her with the same expression.

“Professor? Hello?” Pierre asked.

He glanced away quickly, returning back to the holocaster. "No, no, that's fine," he dismissed. "I'll get one large parashroom and pepperoni pie."

She studied him for a moment longer, considering what had just occurred. He had noticed what magazine she was reading, and she suddenly wondered why he even had it when he said he didn’t read them? 

He ended the call, smiling slightly as he walked back to the couch, but his eyes darted to the coffee table quickly only to see that she had rearranged the magazines as they originally were. If he didn’t bring it up, she wouldn’t. He seemed to be contemplating it though and after a beat she said, “So an hour, huh? Guess everyone’s got the same idea as us. What should we do until then? Unless I’m distracting you from work.”

His eyes snapped up to hers uncertainly. His relaxed mood of earlier was replaced with a certain anxiety?

He licked his lips and glanced aside. “Uh, no. We could put on a movie if you like.”

“Sounds good.”

“Good,” he said, relaxing slightly. “To be honest, I’ve been dodging my work all day.”

“The esteemed professor slacking off?”

He smiled softly to himself, but she thought it might have been a sad one. “I’ve been lacking _inspiration_ the past week.” 

“Ah,” she said plainly. In her thoughts, however, her mind latched on to the information that she had been away for that long. Was he implying something? Or was she reading this situation wrong? 

He busied himself with the television, pulling up Pokeflix. “So, what are you in the mood for? One of Diantha’s?'

“Sure,” she said, perhaps a bit too enthusiastically, “I haven’t seen her new one.” To be sure, she enjoyed Diantha’s movies. There was a certain poise and elegance to them.

“I lost track a few years ago,” he admitted. “Around the time she was doing that series about the Sky Trainer.”

“Oh, Kilouade Heights?”

“The one with the Hoenn Surfer?” 

“Yeah that’s the one.”

“So what’s her new one?” 

Serena gave him an odd look. “She’s released quite a few recently.” Since she was no longer Champion, Diantha had taken to filmmaking once again, including documentaries and even some directing.

Augustine nodded and pursed his lips slightly. She realized he was letting her pick.

“Uh,” she thought off the top of her head, “The one I was kind of interested in was _Day’s End._ It’s set in an alternate universe I think, where she’s a spy and Pokemon don’t exist.” 

“Sounds interesting. I don’t have any objections,” he said, searching for it in the menu.

Silently, Serena watched him. Why was their conversation suddenly so stilted? So _awkward_? They normally got on great about pretty much anything. Had she said something wrong? Was _she_ making it weird? She had admitted enjoying working with him, but so had he? Had she been too forward accepting his offer of staying? Had she mistaken some Kalosian custom? 

“Are you still joining us for the camp this week?” he said, plopping down next to her on the couch. 

“Of course! I really enjoyed last year,” she said, this time genuinely excited and eager to move past the awkwardness. Most appearances she made as Champion were as a courtesy but the camp was one she looked forward to. And, he had introduced her as ‘his dear friend.’ 

He smiled. “Excellent,” he said. “I really want the kids to see how a skilled trainer battles. And the Champion at that.”

“Showing me off?” she teased before she could catch herself; a habit that came from the easy banter they had developed a while ago. He would compliment her in that enthused way of his, and she would jokingly call him on it, mostly as a means to lighten the seriousness of both their duties. They usually slipped into it in the midst of heavy work, a sure sign of their comfort levels. She hoped it wasn’t an inappropriate time to bring it up. His mood had changed after the tabloid and she wondered if that had anything to do with it, if he was beginning to question if maybe they were using it as a way to flirt without admitting to themselves that they were. 

“Why not?” His lazy grin returned and she nearly sighed with relief. “I have to show I’m still a respectable Professor with respectable friends. Besides, you’re far more interesting than I am.” 

She laughed; at his admission, that they were definitely in flirting territory, and that people thought she was interesting. “Only because I’m the Champion. I’m actually _pretty_ boring. When the press finally realizes that, so will everyone else.” 

He scoffed, not as refined as his usual self, but his disdain for the press usually got the best of him. “The press doesn’t know _what_ it likes. But it certainly likes you.”

It was her turn to scoff but not so harshly. “Certainly not for perseverance, focus, determination and hard work.”

He sat back comfortably, putting the remote down as the movie began. “If perseverance, focus, determination, and hard work are _boring_ , then I like boring,” he said softly. Nestled in the corner of the couch, his head resting on his hand, he smiled just as softly. It was an easy, goofy smile that returned that feeling of butterfrees in her stomach.

The corners of her mouth tugged and she glanced back at the television quickly, heat rushing to her face. _That_ was definitely flirting. She reached for her tea to busy her hands and took a long sip. She couldn’t think of anything to say, and really what do you say to that? The opening scene started and she settled back onto the couch next to him.

It turns out Day’s End was very compelling, straight from the beginning. The pacing was great and the worldbuilding was fantastic. A world without pokemon? She didn’t think that was something she’d ever want to experience but it was interesting to explore. So this world, also called earth, still had creatures, but they were called animals and they only made noises, weren’t as affectionate, driven or even as intelligent as Pokemon were.

About a quarter way in, the washer buzzed.

Augustine paused the movie and got up with her, but she said, “I think I can figure it out.”

He nodded. “Sure. If you use the delicate setting, you may have to run it twice though. The sensor’s kind of finicky.”

Quickly enough, she transferred her clothes to the dryer and set it to delicate. The timer said twenty-five minutes on low heat, and she wondered what she’d do when they were dry. Was she changing into her clothes or continuing to wear his? The storm appeared to be getting worse, and the rain had only intensified; she was definitely staying the night. He vaguely mentioned it earlier, but they’d have to discuss sleeping arrangements sooner or later. She didn’t mind the couch at all, but there was also the conference room in the lab downstairs if things were too awkward. She’d taken a nap on the couch there a few times, wasn’t all that bad. 

When she sat back down next to him, the faux leather of the couch was cold on the back of her thighs and she shivered. The temperature of the loft had lowered because of the storm. Maybe she _would_ change back into her clothes when they dried. Not only were they short, but the material of his running shorts made her lose body heat.

Serena hoped she wasn’t being rude by pulling her legs up and sitting crisscrossed, or that a lot of her thighs were now visible. She saw him glance at her legs from the corner of his eye.

“Are you cold?”

“A bit.”

“I’m sorry. Here,” he said, leaning closer to her as he stretched an arm across the back of her shoulders to grab a mareep wool blanket. He wasn’t wearing his cologne but she caught the scent of his soap and shampoo. She flushed as she realized she smelled like that too. 

“Thanks.”

Adjusting the thermostat through his phone, he said, “I usually just keep the temperature consistent, but it is rather chilly tonight.”

They continued the movie, again caught up in the plot. There was some sort of conspiracy with the organization Diantha’s character was in. A powerful weapon and energy source, called nuclear energy, threatened the planet. Labeled a rogue agent, she now had to rely on her own resources and seek out an old flame who was once her partner in the field and the only person she could now trust. They were devising a plan to save the world and reveal the organization’s actions. 

“How’s the temperature for you now?” he asked.

“Good. I don’t feel like a snorunt,” she joked, which made him laugh.

“Pizza should be here soon so that should help with warming up, too. I’m actually pretty hungry, now that I think about it.” 

He laughed slightly, but it was more apologetic. She’d expressed concern once, unintentionally, about his ability to focus on a subject so intently he’d forget to eat and rest. Often, it was because he always put the welfare of others, especially pokemon, before his own.

“Thanks for letting me stay, I really appreciate it.” 

“Of course. I’d rather you were safe. I admit I didn’t know it was you out there,” he said, turning to look at her a moment before studying his hands. “But I’m glad it was.”

Serena felt her heart leap, stunned for a full second. He was still channelling his nervousness through his hands and she reached out to gently grasp his hand. He was surprised at the contact and he focused at her hand over his, closing his fingers around hers in response.

When he looked at her again, his eyes were guarded but she saw a flicker of hope as he searched hers. He glanced at her lips.

Her breath hitched, her tongue rolling over her lips to moisten them. “Why?”

His mouth parted as if he was going to speak and then shut, his jaw clenching. His eyes fell to her lips once more, and Augustine leaned forward slightly, hovering in the space between them. He was contemplating, that measured gaze as he weighed every possible outcome in his mind. Serena knew what he was thinking, but even as she was trained to gather data like him, she dared to take a leap, and she closed the distance between them and placed her lips on his. 

He tasted like tea, his lips a hint of the sweetness from it, but she caught the scent of his hair and skin again, and the heady aroma of him made her heart swell. She let go of his hand and slipped hers behind his neck. He did the same, his thumb on her cheek, and he drew her closer. She pressed light, deliberate kisses; learning the pressure of his lips, the length of time they lingered, how he sighed between every other kiss. He kissed her back; just as precisely, just as gently, as if he were memorizing each one. When she bit at his lower lip, catching it between her teeth, he released a slow breath that made heat pool in her belly. 

Serena slipped her tongue against his, feeling the subtle shift in his self-control. She touched his throat, his chest, felt the sturdiness of his muscles beneath his hoody, delighting in how his long fingers hovered over her waist with the barest of touches. Augustine gave a low groan and pulled back slightly to peer at her. Searching her eyes, he considered whether to continue or stop. Just like with anything else, he  always gave her a chance to back out. 

She brought her other hand up to his cheek for reassurance, her thumb stroking his cheekbone. He angled his body more to face her directly and rested his arm on the back on the couch. Leaning in again, he kissed her; deep, dizzying contact that drew a soft moan from her as her fingers slid into his hair. She felt him shudder and exhale sharply, his hand on her back, pressing her closer to him.

Serena sighed, her heart pounding in her chest. Months, years, of imagining this didn’t compare to how he felt in this moment, how he tasted, how his hands touched at her shoulders, her neck, her hair. She let him learn the contours of her mouth as slowly as she learned his. 

When she made to move even closer, she heard the door chime from the foyer downstairs come through the intercom, and he pulled away with a deep breath, peering at her through heavy-lidded eyes. “The pizza,” he murmured.

“Right,” she said, blinking to break out of the haze. Somehow all of that seemed so long ago and her mind was focusing on how his lips were full and flushed and still hovering near.

Reluctantly, he let his hand fall from her cheek and he tucked a strand of his hair behind his ear. “I should…get that,” he said, standing up to head out.

“Yeah,” she said again, licking her lips, as she glanced aside. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as well.

He walked around the couch and headed to the door. Serena snuck a glance at him as he left, her eyes locking with his as he did the same.

The chime rang again and he looked to the door once more. After it shut, she took a breath and leaned back. This was not how she could have imagined her weekend ending, but it definitely just became _very interesting_. Her stomach grumbled again before she could think more on the subject just as there was another flash of lightning and thunder and she remembered about the storm. Picking up her wallet on the kitchen counter, she pulled out some cash and headed out the door after him.


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as he shut the door, Augustine released a slow breath. This was not how he foresaw his evening going. Well, not _actively_. What his tired, anxious mind conjured up as he dozed on the couch this morning, didn’t count. He thought he’d have more time to work out how she felt about him and even longer to figure out where that led.

He already set in his mind earlier that he was willing to look past his principles for her, because she wasn’t just _someone_ from the lab, or, more loosely, a colleague. She was _Serena_ , all the nuances that made her who she was and who he had discovered her to be. And, because of that, he wanted to make sure he was heading into this the right way. It was exhilarating as much as it was terrifying.

The door opened and Serena looked as if she hadn’t expected him to still be there. “Oh, hey.”

“Hey,” he managed to say, expecting a discussion about earlier, but she closed the door and stepped out with him. He made an effort not to look at her lips, because they were still fresh on his mind.

“We should tip Patrice extra. Since you paid, I’ll cover it.”

“Of course.” He’d prepared a tip, generous by any standard, but a little extra this stormy night wouldn’t come amiss. He was always appreciative of her awareness, how conscientious she naturally was. He suspected that was a big part of her continued popularity. She remained approachable and used her position to elevate and empower issues or people; small things like Pokepuffs for newly paired trainers and starters or larger ones like PSAs on Pokemon conservation with her parents.

He led the way to the elevator, considering if they should take the stairs in case the power went out. As if on cue, there was a flash of lightning and the lights flickered. “Shall we take the stairs?” he said nervously. He’d never been stuck in an elevator but the thought of it, as embarrassing as it would be to get stuck in his own lab, was just as uncomfortable.

“I’m surprised they still accepted our order,” Serena said as she led him to the stairwell.

“Me too. It’s been some time since Kalos had a storm like this. It’s not out of the question some people might underestimate it,” he replied, then added. “I don’t mean that as a slight.”

“No, your point is valid. I truly _haven’t_ seen a storm this bad in the three years I’ve been here.”

“Well, the saying goes, every five or six years, a bad one rolls in from the coast.”

“Hrmm, noted,” she said ahead him. They went down a flight in silence, but when she reached the bottom, she turned suddenly to face him. “We can eat first and talk about… _earlier_ afterwards,” she said seriously, but she had a coy smile about her lips.

His breathing hitched, and he found himself smiling, despite the topic rooting him to the step.“Sure.”

She held his gaze for a moment before she turned again and they continued. The lights flickered a couple more times and when they got to the second floor landing, he was able to peer into the greenhouse to get an idea of how it was faring. So far, so good, but it was early yet and all it could take was a piece of debris flying into it. He hoped it would hold over.

“Greenhouse looks alright so far,” she commented. “Does it normally hold out alright during storms?”

“For the most part. There’s only been one other storm as bad as this maybe about four years ago? But we’ve only been in this building six years, so we’ll see.”

“If it managed to withstand Tyrantrum, this should be nothing.”

The corner of his mouth quirked, remembering. “About that—the window shattered after you left.”

“Oh no! Really? I’m so sorry.”

“Please don’t worry about it. It happens often enough. Last time was Garchomp, and before that, Sophie.”

She laughed. “So I guess it _doesn’t_ hold up very well.”

“Well, Garchomp was Mega Evolved, Tyrantrum was, heh, in the middle of a tantrum, and Sophie was testing a frequency emitter, which, now that I think back on it, we’re incredibly lucky we didn’t blow every window and our eardrums.”

“Ah, so we’re lucky _that’s all_ we’ve broken with the amount of things that go on in an active research lab and pokemon nursery.”

“I’d say so. The _Champion_ even broke a window.” He rather enjoyed that she used ‘ _we_.’

Serena rolled her eyes, but she was still amused. “You should see what I do to underground lairs.”

Although he enjoyed her joke, his smile faltered slightly. She’d never mentioned what ever really happened in Geosenge. With Lysandre. There was her deposition at the initial hearing and various comments from the other trainers, but not hers, not the _end_ —

“—There she is.”

“Hey! Here’s your pizza!”

They had reached the main staircase, and in her bright yellow raincoat, Patrice was waiting for them at the foot of it along with Pepper, the eponymous Dragonite. Surprisingly, she wasn’t as drenched as he expected her to be.

“Thank-you so much, Patrice,” Serena said, reaching her first. “Here’s a little extra for you tonight.”

“Oh, wow, thanks!”

“ _Merci_ , Patrice. Sorry for the wait.”

“No worries, Professor,” she said cheerily handing him the pizza box. “You’re the last delivery. Mom’s closing up shop for the night. This storm’s getting worse.”

“You’re welcome to take shelter here.”

“Don’t worry, Pepper here can handle it, and mom made sure she cast Protect on me before we left. Rain or Shine, your pizza’s on time!” she said and Pepper showed her agreement with a roar and confident fist pump.

“Is… _that_ your motto?” Serena asked with the hint of a smirk.

“No, but it should be. Maybe Mom’ll give me a raise if I tell her that. See ya, Professor! See ya, Champ!” Patrice said, jogging back to the door. There was a flash of lightning that illuminated the sky but she seemed unfazed by it, pulling up her hood, climbing onto Pepper and they took off.

“ _She’s_ chipper,” he said.

“Do you think she knows it’s raining?” Serena quipped.

Augustine snorted. “If we ever discover a Mega form for Dragonite, she’d probably be the only one happy to say _Dragonite-ite_.”

Serena laughed, the sound of it making him feel warmer despite the temperature. “I wondered about that. Too late to change the naming convention now.”

He shrugged. “We can make an exception if the time comes.” They _could_ do that. They were making the rules after all.

“Or keep it as Dragonite-ite. Imagine Drasna or Lance saying that seriously in battle.” There was a crack of thunder and she shivered. “I know we’ve got Clemont to thank for repurposing the Tower as a lightning rod, but I’m glad I’m not out there.”

He hummed in agreement. Technically, the lab was considered a safeplace for trainers and he made sure the front doors were secure but unlocked.

“I’ll leave these unlocked in case anyone else needs shelter.” At the staircase, Augustine paused as he took a step up and turned to face her. “I hope you haven’t thought I’d meant to use this situation to take advantage of you. If I’ve given that impression—”

She frowned. “—Never. I know you’re not that kind of person.”

He smiled gratefully, but at the same time wondered what kind of person she believed him to be. Had her perception of him changed within the course of the evening?

The corner of her mouth tugged but she tilted her head slightly and her expression became unreadable. “I hope you haven’t dismissed me as some starstruck lab assistant.”

It struck him that the insecurity and concern of whatever they both were to each other ran both ways. That was the farthest thing he thought of her.

“Serena,” he said firmly, as serious as he could with a pizza box in his hands, “I respect you completely. Not just as a very powerful trainer, or as a highly competent researcher, but as a friend. I hope that these years working together has shown that.”

“They have,” she said. “But I never gave hope to there actually being anything _more_ than that.”

He took a steadying breath. “And if there is?”

She studied him a moment, searching his eyes for what he hoped was the answer she wanted. As she opened her mouth to speak, there was another flash of lightning and the electricity finally went out.

“ _Merde,_ ” he grumbled, aware his annoyance was more at her answer getting cut off than the power being out. “Can you see?” He could barely make out the stairs in front of them. “The backup generator should come on soon, but, I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.” Most, if not all equipment in the lab was off or on low power mode.

“Probably not.”

They made their way back up.

“Most essentials run off their own backups, but if you don’t mind eating in the dark, we’ll keep the main power off,” he said, pulling out his phone and stopping the generator kickback; it was nice to have top of the line technology—and Professor Meyer and Clemont as close friends.

“You think it’s just us or the whole city?” she asked, her steps slower and more deliberate in the dark.

Putting his phone away, he missed a step and felt that sinking feeling in his stomach for a brief moment. “Just our luck then, if it’s just us,” he said lightly.

“I think there’s a step higher than the others right here,” she said behind him and he smiled in the darkness.

“Yeah, I just discovered that as well.”

“I thought against bringing my Pokemon out during the storm, but Brer would be useful right about now.”

“If I recall, he’s not too fond of storms, even more than the average fire type.” Her Braixen was very particular about things, even evolving. Serena’s skill in battling and experience as Champion should have been more than enough to give him the proper experience to evolve into Delphox but he resisted that form. Uncommon for a Braixen, but not unheard of in the case of many evolutionary lines.

“Well, he was hatched here,” she said. “Was there a storm similar to this?”

Now that he thought on it more, they started the protocol of securing the young pokemon in pokeballs whenever there was a storm after a window was damaged.

“Not long before I gave him to Tierno to give to you. He was one of the new litters born the evening of a storm and a window broke.”

“Ah, that explains _quite_ a few things.”

“Yes, Sophie discovered the imprinting and lasting effects. Now we always put them safely in their pokeballs.”

“How’s she doing? I haven’t seen her in a couple weeks.”

“Very well. Missing this storm out in Kiloude. She’ll be back for the Camp.”

“Oh good! I brought back some of my dad’s data for her to look over. I’ll just give it to her then.”

Their conversation fell into companionable silence. He didn’t feel it to be awkward, and perhaps she was thinking of earlier just as he was. How could he not? He was worried his mood had gotten the better of him, but he dared to reveal hints, just as she had, and when he had hesitated, inches away, she had been the one to take the leap. He had learned how she tasted, how her fingers felt against his cheek, around his neck, the pressure of her lips, how her tongue pushed against his.

They could attribute their curiosity, their impulsiveness to the heat of the moment; the situation of the storm, her shower, his clothes, a movie. But just as easily, they had admitted they enjoyed each other’s company, amidst bold flirtation and thinly veiled comments. How they moved forward on was on the table.

Augustine dared to hope that they’d agree to…something. Anything. Perhaps they weren’t ready now, but maybe in the future there was something to look forward to, and he’d be fine with that.

They reached the third floor and in the hallway between his loft and the archives, they could see the pitch black of the city.

“Hrmm, looks like the power’s out everywhere, not just us. Do you mind taking the pizza to the table while I grab some plates and candles?”

“Sure. Actually,” she said, and he saw the sliver of light from a pokeball enlarging, “I’ll ask Brer for some help real quick.”

Her Braixen appeared and instantly she was reassuring. “Hey buddy, think you can give us some light? I know there’s a storm, but we could use your help. Think you got it in you? It’s okay if you don’t.”

There was the sound of sniffing and he heard her giggle. “Alright there’s a slice in there for you.”

Brer squealed in delight and in the darkness they watched the spark of his stick as it emerged from his tail and grew a flame.

“Great job, buddy.” In the braixenlight, she turned to him. “Candles?”

“Yeah, there’s one here in the hallway.” Opening the door, he led Brer to the candelabra on the foyer side table. In the darkness, he performed a very controlled fire blast that lit all four wicks. “Thank you so much. If you don’t mind getting the fireplace, I’ll do the ones in the bathroom and kitchen.”

Serena nodded and he ducked into the bathroom to find the set of candles that normally were decoration. As he retrieved them from under the sink, he overheard her command Brer to do a controlled flamethrower in the fireplace to get it up to temperature. He always enjoyed the tone her voice took whenever she spoke to her pokemon, both assertive as well as reassuring.

“That’s it, nearly there!” she said. “Good job!”

After he lit them and set them a good distance away from anything flammable, he joined her in the kitchen. They were just opening up the pizza box on the table and he grabbed two plates for them. Brer ate his in two bites, probably because there was a roll of thunder again and she put him back in his pokeball.

Handing her a plate, he smiled. “Thank you. That went significantly quicker and it’s nice and warm here, too.”

“If you ignore the thunder and lighting, it’s nice ambiance.”

The candlelight softened the features of her face and her eyes picked up the light in a way that was honest and playful. It made his heart flip and he glanced at the meal in front of them. “It is.”

The moment passed and they both grabbed a slice at the same time. It smelled delicious and it reminded him that he hadn’t eaten properly since breakfast, possibly even the previous night. For a few minutes, they ate without speaking, their hunger take priority. As he selected his second slice, she swallowed hard. “Dragonite,” she started, “Do you think the chances of us encountering a mega form will be limited to Dragon Tamers?”

The information on Garchomp’s Mega form had primarily come from himself. While he knew of other Dragon Tamers with Garchomps and gibles, so far only he and a handful of other had managed to mega evolve consistently for data.

“It’s very likely. Of course, there is Pepper,” he added, garnering a good laugh from her.

“Ah yes, ‘Pizza in 30 seconds or it’s free!’”

“I don’t think Penelope battles much any more but, undoubtedly, dragon trainers in particular always have strong bonds with their pokemon.” It was rare to see Dragonite, in the wild or otherwise, and it required a great deal of exceptional training to evolve one as well. Even Serena’s Dragonair, even more rare as it was with its off-coloring still had a ways to go. “There is you of course too, if you’re willing.”

She considered it thoughtfully. “Yes, but I haven’t pushed Rosie as hard as I have my other dragon types. It may be a while before I can do focus training and conditioning again.”

While he understood her reasoning, he also immediately felt bad for suggesting it. Falling under observation and data collecting was asking a lot of both her and her pokemon, something she has already done in the past, but she already had her set team and rotation reserve. “It is only a suggestion. Please don’t feel obligated to always be available for the lab. You’ve already helped out so much.”

“I know. You know I don’t mind.”

He wiped his mouth and leaned back in his chair. “I know. I do sometimes wonder though if I ask too much,” he said. “Of you,” he added, because, yes, that was something he needed to address now that he confronted his feelings about her.

This time she peered at him from the corner of her eye before pursing her lips as she considered it. “Working with you has always been easy,” she said, her expression softening. “But how will we get results if we don’t push for them?”

Augustine glanced away. When she had first said that, months, _years_ , ago, he had attributed her enthusiasm of that phrase to sharing the same metier as her father; entering academia with her own set of guidelines. But, as she had grown, strengthened her skills, it became something she believed wholeheartedly. How else would she have become the Champion?And better still, thrive in the constant scrutiny and responsibility of it all. She pushed the role of Champion, pushed the role of Grand Duchess in influencing the Battle Chateau, pushing, now, her role at the laboratory. He didn’t want her to do that because of him, _for_ him. Or pursue something she didn’t have to. Pursue a relationship with him because—-

His jaw clenched. This was where everything started to become unclear, and he had to make certain that he was not influencing her decision in that way.

“Serena,” he started,“Oh—” She had just taken a bite from a slice, but she raised an eyebrow to show she was listening even though her mouth was full of pizza.

“About earlier…I, um—“ If he knew he’d be discussing how he felt about her after grappling with it the whole day, he’d have been more articulate. He started again. “I care about you, and I’ll be honest and admit that I enjoyed earlier. But, I also respect whatever decision you may have going forward. If you want to leave what happened earlier alone, I understand. And,” he licked his lips as he considered what to say next, “I also want to make it clear that I don’t expect anything from you because of our established relationship.”

She swallowed hard. “I don’t,” she said quickly.

Nodding, Augustine tried to keep his heart from sinking. “Ok.”

“ _No,_ ” she gasped after a series of coughs, “I mean, I understand your offer; I _don’t_ want to leave what happened earlier alone. I enjoyed earlier as well, and I really would like to see where _this_ leads.”

He looked up, a slow smile spreading across his face despite a flush creeping up his neck. “Me too.”

She smiled too before she took on the determination he so desperately was in awe of. Wiping the corners of her mouth, she pushed her plate further and angled to face him.

“So, everything sort of fell into place earlier, _tonight_ really, but we’re both very busy, especially very soon. Do you think we can make this work?”

“I want to.”

“Or…should we wait?” She chewed her lip. “If we’re still being honest, I’ll admit that I don’t really want to.” She laughed, but it was one he recognized as nervousness and her face grew red. “I never thought we’d have this conversation.”

He reached across and held her hand. “I never thought we would either.”

“I always figured if it happened, it happened.” She laughed again, this time more confidently, and her gaze fell on him. “So. We’ll feel it out, I guess.”

“We can see how this month goes?” Already he was going over his schedule for the month and all the times he could be with her. He could tell she was doing the same.

“Yeah. I don’t want us to force anything, but I’m also—”

“—Excited,” he breathed, unaware at first that he had said it out loud, but she grinned.

“Yeah. Excited.”

With the candlelight, her expression was magnified and the soft lines and shadows of her face seemed to bring out the subtler parts of her personality and things he’d never let himself notice before; how her smile reached her eyes, or how her hair framed her face. She looked— _Mon Dieu_ , she _was_ beautiful, and for the first time, an ache welled within him from that realization. That the same eyes that showed joy when she shared theories with him, were the same eyes that caught the light just right and held his gaze, that the tilt of her head at a bit of data that fascinated her was the same she did now.

The thought of kissing her again, confidently, after they had just confirmed mutual feelings, ran though his mind again. He wondered if it was a good time, and she must have too. In the brief silence that hung between them, he saw how her gaze flicked to his lips.

“Well,” she said, retuning to her plate, “I think I’m done eating.” She took a deep breath and smiled. “I scarfed my slices down. Mostly hungry but also nervous eating.”

Augustine laughed, because he wasn’t quite sure how many he had eaten either. “You’re not alone in that. If you’re finished, I’ll take your plate.”

“Alright,” Serena said, handing hers. “I’ll put the food away?”

“Sounds good.”

They both stood and navigated around the kitchen fairly well in the dark. He pointed out some gallon sized resealable bags and the recycle bin as he went to the sink. Quickly enough she finished before him and as he bent to put the dishes in the dishwasher she returned with their empty tea mugs from the living room and maybe a few others he’d left lying around throughout the week.

“Ah, _merci_.” He handwashed them and she had taken the initiative to find a clean rag from one of the drawers.

“So,” she said casually as she wiped down a mug, “You being unproductive all week. That’s me?”

To his credit he only paused for a half second. “No. Well, that’s part of it, yes. It’s…me. Trying to wrap my head around us. I didn’t realize until maybe Wednesday, and after that couldn’t think about anything else.” When she didn’t immediately respond, he thought perhaps that sounded odd. “What I mean is that I hadn’t seriously considered my feelings for you until suddenly I did and it was, _is_ overwhelming.”

She met his eyes. “I understand. I spent some time away too because it’s… _intense_ working with you,” she said, looking away briefly. “Not that that’s bad, no. Like I said earlier, I really enjoy working with you, and we work well together, but when we work _so closely_ sometimes, I just had to make sure I wasn’t blurring things. Take a step back, if you will.”

“And are you okay with blurring things now?”

“Yeah,” she nodded confidently. “Are you?”

He nodded too. “Normally, I wouldn’t be, but with you, I want to.” He understood now, what he had set. Anything casual he would steer clear of but he was serious about this. About _them_.

For several seconds, there were several arcs of lightning that lit up the sky and it drew their attention.

“You know, I’ve only ever seen one storm worst than this.”

“Ah, I forget you were in Hoenn that day.”

“It poured nonstop for hours. But it was like water was coming from everywhere, even the ground. Absolutely terrifying. I remember thinking about how I hadn’t seen my dad in weeks and thought that might be the end of the world.”

“Kalos was lucky enough Olympia warned us, but even then, the rain hadn’t been that bad.” He remembered the videos and documentaries. “I don’t blame you for thinking that. Many did.”

She looked away from the window and back at him again. “The Champion, May, was only ten when it happened and I couldn’t wrap my head around what she must have felt to battle the ancient legendary pokemon and stop so much destruction,” she said sadly. “I didn’t think I’d encounter the same burden.”

“But you handled it in a way no one else could have.”

“Yeah,” she said quietly. Her expression was one that hinted she wanted to share more about that, about Geosenge, but he wasn’t sure if he was prepared or even wanted to discuss Lysandre in this moment. The moment passed and instead she asked, “What’d you think of the movie?”

“I enjoyed it. Did you still want to finish it? We can watch the last of it on my laptop and head to bed after.” He paused, and when she met his gaze, her eyes were unreadable. “Er—You’re welcome to the couch.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she said, pushing past the awkwardness, and holding out her hand for the last cup. Everything was suddenly loaded now, not that it wasn’t already but now it was out in the open.

Augustine handed her the cup and dried his hands, heading back to the living room to set up his laptop. The battery life was still at seventy percent so they had plenty of time. He pulled up Pokeflix again and Day’s End. He did not recognize any of the scenes it started on and he thought about how long they had spent _not_ watching.

“I paused it after, uh, after you left,” she said joining him and realizing what she was referencing.

“Thanks.” He focused on rewinding, pretending not to hear too much of what she said. He wasn’t sure he would have better self-control if they decided to explore that again. Not that either of them had much earlier—they were both fortunate and unfortunate the pizza had arrived.

“Um, we were about here.”

“Yeah that looks right.” Pulling her knees up under the blanket, Serena sat on the couch next to him again, about the same distance as earlier, but her back rested against his shoulder slightly and he took that as a good sign.

“Are you comfortable?” he ventured.

“Yes.”

She didn’t see how wide his smile was in the dark.

There were about twenty minutes left of the movie and they fell back into the plot again. Diantha really had a great script in this film. The next time he saw her he’d have to bring it up and commend her. And maybe bring up the context of how he watched it too. Five minutes in, he picked up his knees too to warm up his feet. Despite socks and the fire going, the heat was only emanating to certain areas of the room and she shared the blanket with him. Their knees touched and she kept hers against his. The last ten minutes of the movie were very compelling and even he leaned forward to watch the action on the smaller screen.

When the credits rolled, she yawned and rubbed her eyes. “I’ll take you up on that couch offer now. Trying not to get blown off Charizard in the middle of a storm is _very_ tiring.”

“I’ll bet.” He tried not to catch her yawn, but he did, a sudden wave of fatigue hitting him. Well, he hadn’t slept properly all week and the last few hours were both emotionally thrilling and exhausting. Still, it was very nice to have reached the end of the week and, even more thrilling, to have her here enjoying what could have been a dreadful evening for both of them.

“I’m sure I’ll be sore tomorrow. You’d figure as Grace’s daughter I’d be used to riding Pokemon by now.”

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had to ride one. “Well, take it from someone who sits behind a computer all day, you make it look so easy.”

Laughing, she shook her head. “Trust me, it’s so difficult. And I’ve been doing it my whole life. Not just Ryhorns. Ponytas are the hardest and falling is the worst. But, in the course of twenty years, I can say I’ve only bruised my tailbone twice.”

He cringed, at the same time thinking about how she must have ridden a Rhyhorn since before she could walk. “ _Only_ twice?”

“That’s just tailbones though. I’d rather break my arm a third time than go through that again. And that little pillow.”

Augustine raised his eyebrows. “A _third_ time?”

She laughed again, perhaps a little embarrassed but then seemed to consider something and faced him properly. “Yeah. So, I’ve actually broken this arm twice,” she said, pointing to her left, “And broken my wrist on my right.” She lifted the sleeve on her left arm to show some faint scars. “And once, when I was in Jhoto, I was trying to help my mom break in a new Ryhorn and it bucked me off into a thorn bush.”

Despite hearing about her injuries, he was impressed at her hardiness and how casually she shared them with him. He’d noticed some of her scars in the past but thought it impolite to ask.

“I’m impressed you still have the guts to get back on a Pokemon again.”

Shrugging, she pushed down her sock to show another scar. “Well, then my ankle got caught in a stirrup and _that_ broke. There’s a couple of pins in, so I get tired wearing heels pretty fast.” She smirked at him. “So naturally, I use that as an excuse to cut public appearances short.”

He smirked as well. “ _Naturally._ ”

His gaze dropped to the motion of her slipping her sock slowly back up her leg and his smiled faltered. Her athleticism was always something he admired. Occasionally they cycled a route together, or attended charity runs like the shirt of his she was wearing, but in her private time, aside from riding, she still maintained her skating and even incorporated rockclimbing into her schedule. Most of her official meetings with Korinna and Grant were usually in the midst of heavy activity. It showed in her posture and in the hard lines of toned muscle. Augustine looked back at her face, trying to push past the unintentional tease.

“And what about that one?” he asked, pointing to one on her scalp that he saw on occasion when she styled her hair a certain way.

“Oh, this?” She grinned sheepishly and parted hair with her fingers. “I hit a tree. While riding, but still.” 

“Well, if it makes you feel better, I got _this,_ ” he offered, tilting his head to show the one behind his ear, “falling from a tree when I was a boy. My grandmother was furious. She told me not to go looking for Talonflame nests.”

“And here I thought you were a _good boy_.”

“Most of the time,” he said, his smile returning.

She pointed to the one on his forearm barely peeking out from the sleeves. “Your turn.“

“A Sneasel. Maybe five years ago? We both had the same idea about Pidgeot nests. Well, I didn’t plan on _eating_ them.”

“Ugh, they’re sneaky little things. My dad’s got a pretty nasty cut when he was studying Lapras nesting habits. Whoever said being a Pokemon Researcher was boring and safe?”

“ _Nobody_ ,” he lamented. He’s gotten more injuries as a researcher than as a precocious child. “Ah,” he remembered. “And this,” he said, standing and pulling up his hoody at his waist to show the four round scars on his hip. “Pin Missile from a Beedrill I startled out in the field. I was working with Rowan in Sinnoh and we found out I was allergic to Beedrills and possibly Combees.“

Her brow furrowed. “Wow, so you almost…” Absently she outstretched her hand to touch them but then realized that was crossing a boundary and thought better of it. Her eyes flicked up to his and they held a heated gaze.

After another second he broke eye contact and straightened his clothing. “I, uh, think that was the only time I saw him show any emotion, now that I think about it.”

“Is he always so serious?”

Briefly, he remembered she still had an open study proposal from Rowan and the worry that had been eating at him returned until he remembered she had addressed it. _And_ called him out on his feelings for her. This time, she seemed generally interested in his relationship with his mentor.

“That is the vibe he gives off, is it not?”

She shrugged. “It’s intimidating on top of the immense work he’s made, but I was curious.”

He crossed his arms, thinking. “Outside of work, no, not really. He’s quite genial but only to those he’s comfortable with. In all honesty, I thought we would butt heads because of our personalities but he appreciates passion, however that manifests. Or so he said. Which, of course, left me even more confused and pretty sure he disliked me.”

“Who could dislike Augustine Sycamore? Kalos loves you,” she teased.

Rolling his eyes, Augustine said. “You are quite mistaken, cheri. Kalos loves _you._ ”

“It’s fun for all of two seconds.”

He hummed in agreement. “But, back on Rowan, you know I respect him dearly, and he respects people who work hard. I’m sure, if you were to accept his proposal—which I might add is already reason enough that he values you and your work—you would be one of his prized pupils.”

Her smile was very genuine, that soft expression he witnessed earlier in the candle light. “Thank-you.”

“It is all you, cheri. _Your_ work. You have nothing to thank me for.”

“For saying it,” she said, then stood and stretched as well. “And because I’m desperate to be another Professor’s prized pupil,” she teased.

His eyebrows raised at her bold statement and he pushed right back. “And who said you were my favorite?” _Of course_ she was, but despite that skirting that questionable subject, he enjoyed that their flirting was what it could be now.

Serena leaned in a hairsbreadth, enough for him to catch the scent of her shampoo and remind him that she was wearing his clothes. “Everyone.”

Augustine scoffed; impressed, beaten, outmatched. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit he was also turned on that she wasn’t afraid to put him in his place. Raising his hands he said, “Alright. I know when I’ve lost. But I never feel too bad when I lose to _the Champion_.”

She inclined her head, feigning ignorance. “I thought it was _cheri_ now?”

A slow smile spread across his lips. So she had caught on to that. In truth, he may have let it slip once or twice in the past, but now he could, guilt-free, say it aloud. “Unless you prefer it isn’t?” he asked, half serious.

In the firelight, he thought he could see her face redden. “No, I like it.”

“Well, _cheri_ ,” he said again, confidently, “we’d best get to bed, no?”

There was no uncertain expression in her eyes when she smiled, but then she nodded as she yawned again and turned to adjust the couch for sleep.

“I’ve got a comforter and duvet that’ll you keep warm. Be right back,” he said. He headed to his bedroom and got the winter comforter from the top shelf. He’d been meaning to bring it down anyway now that the summer was ending and Kalos fall arrived quickly. When he returned to the living room, Serena was pursing her lips at the couch, deep in thought.

“Everything alright?”

“Hrrm?” She looked up from the cushions. “Yeah. I was just thinking.”

His expression matched hers. “You don’t have to sleep here if you don’t want.” The last thing he wanted was for her to be uncomfortable.

“No, it’s fine.”

He inclined his head. “Serena, I want you to be comfortable. If you prefer to sleep downstairs in the conference room, you are very welcome to do so.

“Right here is fine,” she confirmed. “I was just thinking about how the moment I hit the sheets, I’ll be out like a light. And also discerning which way to sleep would be warmest.”

“Well, I’ve got a comforter for you and an extra pillow, so hopefully that helps both.”

She took them. “It does.”

“Alright, then. If you need to use the restroom or get something to drink, please make yourself at home, no need to ask me. I’ll leave the door open.”

“Thanks.” She mustered a lobsided smile, and he could tell sleep was catching up to her fast. “Well, goodnight,” she said. Then she stood on tip toe and give him a quick peck on the cheek.

“Good night,” he breathed. The corner of his mouth lifted as the feeling of her lips lingered.

After blowing out the remaining candles, he headed to his bedroom again and settled-in himself.

As he lay in bed, the room dark, Serena only footsteps away, he realized sleep was the last thing on his mind.


End file.
